


Disparity

by tearlessNevermore



Category: Heretical Edge - Cerulean
Genre: AU, Gen, alt!Edge vision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearlessNevermore/pseuds/tearlessNevermore
Summary: In the middle of her Orientation, Flick looks into the light of the Heretical Edge and sees not the ancient cowardice of Seller, but the truth of the fateful day her mother had left.





	Disparity

**Author's Note:**

> For those who are wondering, this is a fic written for Cerulean's webserial Heretical Edge that I originally published in the Spacebattles Discussion thread.

The vision ended and I just stood there for a moment, staring into space as the bright light faded.

I dimly noted the others, with the exception of Sands, Scout and Professor Dare, were rubbing their eyes and chattering about... various things. Presumably their Edge visions.

The idea of casually chatting, boasting, about my Edge vision brought a harsh laugh to my throat, tears stinging my eyes.

It... had to be wrong. My Mom was a coward, a monster who ran out on us and broke Dad’s heart. Who abandoned me. She wasn’t someone who could do... that.

“Miss Chambers? Felicity? Are you alright?”

The chatter in the background had gone silent at Professor Dare’s question and I hoped that the others weren’t staring at me. I didn’t answer, too caught up in my thoughts.

At some point I’d fallen to my knees and started sobbing properly, the Vision replaying in my head.

“Flick? Did something happen?”

Professor Dare was kneeling beside me, one hand hovering over my shoulder like she was unsure whether or not she should touch me.

“Are the visions always true?” I had to ask her, turning my head to look at her, blurry as my vision was. Maybe the Edge sometimes gave bad visions, like crossed wires.

“To the best of my knowledge, yes. It can be hard to identify each one, but most of them can be matched to a verifiable event. We have had occasion to revise our history books because of them.” Dare said, concern and some other unidentifiable emotion on her face. “I take it that your vision was... upsetting?”

I let out a strangled laugh. ‘Upsetting’ was an understatement to end all understatements. Professor Dare seemed to get the message.

“I see. Occasionally this happens, a Bystander-kin sees something personal in their vision. If you don’t feel ready to rejoin your classmates yet, then you can step aside until you feel composed. Someone will be along soon to take you through anything you’ve missed. And we have a therapist in the event that your vision was particularly traumatic.”

“What about the rest of them?” I asked looking around properly for the first time. To my surprise, the rest of the students were just stopped there, not moving or talking, some frozen mid-gesture.

“I took the liberty of stopping time when I noticed you were having difficulty.” Professor Dare explained, neatly glossing over that she could apparently _stop time_ on a whim. Almost any other time I’d be amazed by that, but just then I was too numb from my vision.

Just numb to everything else unfortunately, my memories of the vision still hurt.

“I think I’d like to step aside please.” I finally answered.

Professor Dare just nodded and made a gesture with one hand. The world seemed to jerk and we were somewhere else, in a nice room with a couch, a window overlooking the sea and what I was glad to note was a doorway to a connecting bathroom. Dare finally touched my shoulder, prompting me to look at her properly.

“I’ll inform them that you were upset and someone should be here very shortly. In the meantime, try to relax. I assure you, you aren’t in any kind of trouble.” Then she disappeared again and I thought I heard noise pick up outside.

After quickly checking to see if there was anyone else in the room (there wasn’t), I managed to get to my feet and make my way to the toilet bowl before collapsing once more and throwing up.

That... that had been the day Mom had left. But it wasn’t like I thought because she didn’t leave me, she had to. But she didn’t have to, she made him take her... instead of me.

If that was true, and Professor Dare (that name still rang a bell) said that it was, unless she was lying or wrong, then... then I’d been hating Mom for no reason.

Worse, I’d have been hating her for sacrificing herself, because he was coming for me and she went instead and we thought she’d ran out on Dad and she hadn’t...

I heaved again.

There were other details in the vision. The man, Mom called him Fossor, had called Mom “the great rebel leader” and she knew him. Or she used to know him and he made her remember. What was that red thing, some kind of pill? Why had Mom forgotten, if that’s what happened, about that guy? And what was she a rebel _against_?

Who was that man, or Stranger, I suppose? Were those ghosts? They looked like they were solid when they grabbed Mom. And why didn’t the bullets do anything? Was it some sort of magic, like that Buffy villain that could be harmed by ‘no weapon forged’, but for non-magic weapons?

At some level I knew I was trying to distract myself from I’d apparently been loathing my Mom for over half my life _for no fucking reason_ in order to avoid throwing up again. It was kind of like that time I’d dug up Dad’s old crime articles and practised noting the details of all those gruesome crimes without being sick.

Actually, how many of those crimes were actually committed by Strangers? How many disappearances and runaways were like Mom, taken away by normal-seeming monsters? If it was all true, which I didn’t know for certain. Crossroads hadn’t given me any particular reason to distrust them yet, apart from all-but-kidnapping me, and messing with Dad’s memory, and nearly not letting me in... okay, on balance, maybe there were a few reasons not to trust them fully.

Oh God, did they know? About what happened to Mom? Is that why there had been, to use Professor Dare’s words, “a last minute debate” over whether or not I should be included? Because of what happened to my Mom? Wait, Dare already admitted to messing with Dad’s memory, maybe they were the ones that took Mom’s as well.

Or maybe I was reading too much into things. There was no reason to assume that every unexplained thing in my life was connected to the one source. Even assuming that what I saw was the truth, Fossor had said Mom had “enemies”, plural. It could be one of those.

Before my thoughts started curling back to my mother again, I heard a knock on the door of the room outside. My stomach had settled down and I didn’t feel like I wanted to hurl, so I made my way out to meet the person that Dare had presumably sent, pausing to flush the bile down the drain.

Waiting patiently outside the door was a tall, red-haired woman who smiled gently when I opened the door. Like Professor Dare, she had a strange mix of concern and... something else in her eyes.

“Miss Chambers,” she said evenly, her voice calm and even, like paramedics use when talking to patients, “I’m sorry to hear that you had a bad experience with the Heretical Edge. If you’re willing I’m here to talk with you about it.”

“Okay.” I said, since there wasn’t really anything else _to_ say. I stepped back into the room towards the couch. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t want to be standing for this. “Are you the therapist that Professor Dare mentioned?”

The woman actually laughed. It wasn’t malicious, more like the gentle amusement that Dare had reacted with towards my gushing over a rock.

“My apologies for not introducing myself first. No, I’m not Mr Roe, our therapist. I’m Gaia Sinclaire, the Headmistress.”

I flushed. Seriously, what else was I supposed to do after asking the woman in charge if she was the therapist? It could only have been worse if I’d asked if she was a secretary or janitor or something... wait. I thought Dare had said that the Headmistress had been around for over sixty years and this lady... did not look sixty.

The seemed to pick up on my confusion as she settled beside me on the couch.

“I’m not what you expected? Among Heretics, appearances can be... deceiving. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Now, Virginia said that you were upset after viewing your Edge vision. You don’t have to say anything, but do you mind telling me what it was that upset you?”

_Fossor. My Mom. Begging._

I didn’t seem to have anything left in my stomach, fortunately for the carpet. Headmistress Sinclaire leaned over and rubbed my back as I heaved, murmuring something in a language I didn’t recognise. Then the nausea lifted significantly. It... had been a spell of some sort?

“Sorry, I... I’m still a bit upset by it at the moment.” I deflected, postponing an explanation instead of refusing one. There was no need to risk antagonising her unnecessarily.

“That’s quite alright, take your time.” She said, her voice soft and comforting. I wondered how many times she’d done this. If she’d been teaching here for so long... probably a lot. As if reading my thoughts (Could she do that?), she continued. “As Virginia probably said, new students sometimes find their Edge visions distressing. I believe one of your classmates witnessed a Stranger attack that claimed her mother, an incident that she herself had witnessed, but couldn’t recall clearly.”

I stiffened for a moment at the mention of a scenario so similar to my own. I wondered if she’d already known and chosen that example for a reason... then I could have kicked myself. She still had a hand on my back. The chances of her not noticing my reaction were close to zero. A glance at her face dashed those slim hopes to bits.

She looked... regretful, and a few other things. Loss, sadness, maybe something else along those lines? Above all, there was a look in her eyes that I recognised from when my Dad worked out what was bothering me. Mom had it too... before she left. Was taken.

“What do you know?” I asked, taking a chance. If the Headmistress had already all but confirmed what I’d seen, so I stood nothing to lose by asking. Professor Dare did say that the Headmistress was the reason I’d gotten in, so maybe she was on my side. Whatever ‘my side’ was.

“Not as much as I’d like.” She admitted quietly after a moment, her expression never changing. “If you are asking about your mother’s, about Joselyn’s, disappearance then all I know is that she vanished without warning a number of years ago, apparently running out on you and her father. And I know that Joselyn Atherby would _never_ abandon her family without a good reason. I have long suspected that she was taken by a Stranger, but I can only guess which one. Though there are a few particularly strong suspects.”

The bit I latched onto was her use of Mom’s first and maiden names. The way she spoke as if-

“You knew her?” I said, straightening and dislodging her hand from my back. “My Mom?”

“Yes, I knew her.” Sinclaire acknowledged. “I taught her here many years ago. Though I can understand how that might be hard to believe.”

“She... never said anything about this place,” I admitted slowly, before committing myself. This woman seemed to know all but a few details, details I could provide. Maybe she would give me answers in return, but even if she didn’t she could likely hide them from me if I refused to cooperate. “But in the vision, she didn’t recognise that guy at first. Not until he made her swallow some red pill thingy. Then she suddenly knew him, called him ‘Fossor’. Was she made to forget all this?”

The Headmistress stiffened the moment I mentioned the name ‘Fossor’, but that didn’t stop her from answering.

“Yes, yes she was.” She stopped and sighed. “I’m sorry, it’s a long story and I won’t be able to tell you everything, not here and not today, but there’s something you need to know.”

She leaned forward intently until she held my gaze. The gesture was unnecessary, she had my complete attention regardless.

“Your mother was and is one of the most heroic people I have met in my long life, and don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. I can only guess at what exactly transpired or the pain you’ve gone through, but your mother loved you.”

I barely knew this woman, had only met her a few minutes ago. I didn’t have any reason to believe a thing she said, but her words brought it all back to the fore.

What Mom did for me. All the times I’d cursed her name and taken scissors to every connection to her I could find. Every memory of laughter and happiness tainted first with anger, now with sadness and regret.

I bawled my eyes out, the Headmistress holding me and whispering comforting words I couldn’t hear.

But there was one thought I’d long given up on that I had found again.

She didn’t abandon us.

My mother loved me.


End file.
